


Meeting Branson and Rosalie, and the Uninvited Dinner Guests

by Ophiel



Series: The Dalish Curse [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-25 00:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4939324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ophiel/pseuds/Ophiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evelyn meets Rosalie and Branson, and his son Aidan. They settle down to what promises to be a happy family reunion, only to have unexpected dinner guests ruin the evening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meeting Branson and Rosalie, and the Uninvited Dinner Guests

The Green Arbour was a beautiful building of orange brick. It had two floors and was draped with vines from which grapes grew. A seating area by the main square was shaded with vine-covered trellises casting dappled shadows on the guests who dined there. It had dawned sunny, which Evelyn was grateful for. Her hair was loosely braided over one shoulder and she had left her nice clothes behind in favour of a light green tunic and brown breeches, belted at the waist with a sash.

 

Cullen, too wore a simple plaid tunic and leather vest as he drove their wagon into town. Mia and Rick rode in the back. Mia had insisted on bringing the wagon, wanting to buy stores from town, since they were already there.

 

“You look delightfully quaint, Commander Cullen,” Evelyn teased Cullen quietly  as they crossed the village square.

 

“As do you, Lady Inquisitor,” Cullen chuckled quietly. “We should dress like this around Skyhold.”

 

“Josephine would absolutely approve.”

 

“Awe,” Mia laughed from the back of the wagon. “Rick, they’re so cute.”

 

“They can hear you.”

 

“I know, but still.”

 

Evelyn and Cullen slipped into an embarrassed silence, smiling shyly in the front seat. Part of her wished she could reach out to hold his hand, but all that was left was a stump. She settled for leaning on his shoulder instead. Her mother often told her that marriage was for necessity, that she would have been wed to a duke or comte if not for her magic. For once, Evelyn was glad for the magic that spared her that fate. She was married to Cullen now. He had no title, no lands of his own, but he stood above any Arl.

 

The stopped their wagon in the barn that adjoined the inn and headed inside with Cullen helping Evelyn off the wagon once more.

 

Within the common room, low tables and benches filled the room. The air was heavy with the smell of fresh sourdough bread and wine. There were labourers at the bar, their hats wide-brimmed and flopping about their heads like Cole’s did. Behind the bar, moving before huge casks, a buxom lady with a small waist served drinks, her honey blonde hair tied in two pigtails by the side of her head. “Rosalie!” Mia called, waving.

 

The woman turned, her eyes widening with glee. To Evelyn’s surprise, Rosalie vaulted over the bar and ran to Cullen, throwing her arms around his neck with abandon. “Cully!” she squealed as he caught her. “You’re finally back!”

 

“And you’re finally not as short!” Cullen teased. Rosalie was indeed shorter, shorter than even Evelyn.

 

“And this is Evelyn, the girl he somehow convinced to marry him,” Mia teased, nudging Evelyn forward.

 

Rosalie looked at her with her wide eyes and freckled face. She curtseyed daintily. “Milady,” she smiled.

 

“Please, you don’t have to,” Evelyn laughed a little awkwardly. “It’s nice to meet you Rosalie.”

 

Rosalie giggled. “I know. I just wanted to see your reaction.” She embraced Evelyn warmly. “Welcome to the family! Now all of us are married! We thought you were imaginary.”

 

“What.” Evelyn droned.

 

“Have some wine!” Rosalie beamed. “Sit, I’ll bring out something to drink. Treston is out with Warden Jarred patrolling, he’ll be-” She stopped and covered her mouth, looking guiltily at Mia.

 

“They already know, Ross,” Mia sighed. “I trust they’ll not do anything silly.”

 

“Us? We would never,” Cullen said primly.

 

“Cully is never silly,” Rosalie rolled her eyes. “The Chantry only made his upper lip more stiff. But please sit, I’ll bring the wine!”

 

Rickard touched Mia’s elbow. “The grocer’s is open,” he pointed out, looking across the square at the market. “If you want those greens, you’d better go.”

 

“Right,” Mia said. “Cul, you and Evelyn just wait here. Grocers, then blacksmith, then tinkers and we’ll be finished.”

 

“I could help you go to the blacksmith’s,” Evelyn offered. “You just need a pot fixed, right? Can’t be hard.”

 

Mia looked at her with slight suspicion in her eyes. “Right. Thank you! Just remember, you’re on holiday!” She hurried off with Rickard in tow.

 

Cullen called her over to a table where Rosalie had set a bottle of wine and three cups. She moved to them. “I need to handle something for Mia first,” Evelyn said. “A pot needs fixing.”

 

Rosalie pouted. “I wanted to hear stories about your adventures,” she said.

 

“Cullen can tell you,” Evelyn grinned. “Tell her about Wicked Grace, love.”

 

“No,” Cullen’s voice tone final. Evelyn laughed and went to the wagon to get the pot that needed mending.

 

She carried the pot across the square, sidestepping flocks of geese that walked across the street with abandon, heading to market. She had walked the halls of empresses and kings and here she was in a quaint town, fixing a pot. She would never have imagined it. She followed the sound of hammering steel, stepping off the main square into a side street. In the shadows of the alley, she could see the dull light of a lit forge. Farming implements hung from the entrance of the forge, ploughs, rakes, sickles and the like glinted with the forge’s fire.

 

“Excuse me,” she called, not seeing anyone in sight. There was a grunt from the forge, where a man sat at the bellows, one foot on the paddle as he pumped the fire in the forge to rouse it.

 

“What do you want, missy?” The man had a round build, which might have been comical if one did not realize that under all that flab was muscle so honed they didn’t even need to try to appear puffed up. He was going bald at the temple, but made up for it with a majestic braided mustache. She wondered if he was trying to look dwarvish.

 

“This pot has a hole,” she said.

 

“Are you from around here?” he asked Evelyn suddenly.

 

“Why would you ask that?”

 

“Because a little missy like you does not cook, you look like a stick,” he growled. “Not to mention your arm. How can you cook like that?”

 

Evelyn felt her ears begin to burn. The man irritated her. She had to be nice regardless. “I’m visiting my in-laws,” she admitted.

 

“Who?”

 

Why did he need to know all these things just to mend a pot, Evelyn wondered in exasperation.

 

“The Rutherfords,” she said, still smiling.

 

“Ah, then that’ll be for Mia? Branson?”

 

“Mia.”

 

He grunted. “Set it down on the table there and come back in twenty minutes.”

 

Evelyn set the pot down. “I’d rather wait,” she said. “I told Mia I’d bring it back.” He grunted and said nothing. Evelyn looked about the forge curiously, admiring the tools. “These have excellent edges, ser,” she complimented the man. “You have considerable skill.”

 

“Aye, that I do.”

 

“Do you sell these? With such an edge, I imagine even the Dalish would come to trade.”

 

The man snorted and spat into the forge. “Piss on them,” he snapped. “Blasted knife-ears.”

 

“Have they offended you?” she asked, putting on her most vapid expression.

 

“You’re too right, dirty cheats. Coming here, mocking my wares.” He spat into the fire again. “Piss on them.”

 

“What?” Evelyn blinked. “They did that?”

 

“And now, they’re killing people, you hear? Them knife-ears after all the kindness we showed them not throwing them out.”

 

“Bastards,” Evelyn growled. “I always hated those godless knife-ears.”

 

“Aye, too right!” He got up and ambled over to get her pot. He set a ring around the hole in the pot and went to draw out a cup of molten copper from the forge. “Good to see a missy with a good head. You want my advice, stay out of the fields. If the wolves don’t get you, the damn knife-ears will.” He tapped the metal gently to set it, then doused the pot in a trough of water entirely.

 

“When did they last come here?”

 

“Three weeks ago,” he said.

 

“Then the killing started when they left.”

 

“Aye.” He handed her the wet pot brusquely with the metal tongs he used to douse the pot. “That’ll cost a silver.”

 

+++

 

“A silver?” Cullen exclaimed.

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Evelyn said placatingly as she sat down beside Cullen in the dappled shade of the Green Arbour’s trellises. “He’s not very polite and I don’t want to argue over a silver.”

 

Rosalie tutted. “That Coalan is a right arse,” she insisted, playing idly with a braid. “What happened with the elves… it was his fault.”

 

“Are they really killing people?” asked Evelyn.

 

“Don’t know. Treston says you find dead bodies, most of them killed and slashed and shot full of arrows.” She shuddered. “It’s horrible. They brought one to Branson once to ask him to check how they died. Bran came here and drank away a day and a half afterwards.”

 

“Why would they-” Evelyn began.

 

“Branson is a physician,” Cullen said.

 

“Truly?” Evelyn exclaimed in surprise. “I did not know that.”

 

Someone called Rosalie from within the inn and Rosalie turned to yell that they should keep their knickers on. Where Mia’s voice boomed, Rosalie’s screeched. “I’ve got to go,” she said and kissed Cullen and Evelyn on the cheek. “We’ll have dinner tonight! Mia’s place! Tell her I’m invited!”

 

“You could come back with us,” Cullen said. “We have a wagon. It will fit you, Branson and Aidan just fine. We’re leaving this afternoon once we visit Bran.”

 

“Alright, Treston should be back by then,” Rosalie said. “Have to run, see you!” She ran into the inn and out of sight.

 

“It doesn’t feel like anyone has changed,” Cullen mused, sipping the wine. “Mia still mothers everyone, Rosalie is in her own world of… Maker knows what, and I’m sure we’re going to find Branson with his nose in a book.”

 

“Your family is fascinating so far,” Evelyn took her hand in his. “I don’t know why I was so worried.”

 

“I know.” He looked at her with amusement in his eyes. “I look horrible, don’t I?” he squeaked, mimicking her.

 

“Oh, shut up,” Evelyn laughed. “You won’t be so relaxed when you meet my mother. Next summer. Just in time for her Firefly Ball. Think Halamshiral, but you can’t escape because it’s my mother.”

 

“Andraste preserve me,” Cullen winced. “Can we talk about something else? Would you like to visit Branson?”

 

“Can we?” Evelyn beamed.

 

+++

 

The physician’s clinic was close to the edge of town. Evelyn and Cullen had to ask for directions once or twice. The people of Vintiver would glance at her missing arm and then with kind pity, direct them, sometimes without them even asking.

 

“Well,” Evelyn said as they found the physician’s sign above a door. “At least this missing arm is good for something.”

 

“Just to let you know,” Cullen said seriously as they stopped outside the clinic. “His wife passed on when Aidan was born.”

 

Evelyn nodded. “I’ll watch what I say.”

 

They stepped into the clinic, where a man in a black robe stood behind the counter, reading a book intently. He did not appear to hear them come in. Evelyn had learned to recognize what she now thought of as the Rutherford’s hair colour. “Branson?” Cullen called from the door.

 

The man looked up. Evelyn blinked. He and Cullen looked almost exactly alike, with the difference being that Branson wore thin-rimmed glasses and squinted a bit. Where Cullen was stocky and built from his life as a templar, Branson was slender and lithe.

 

“You’re here!” Branson exclaimed, standing to meet them at the door and a warm embrace. “Maker’s breath, I never thought I’d see the day! And your wife!” He bowed politely to her. “A pleasure to meet you, Lady Trevelyan. You are like a breath of fresh air to my brother’s dour sighs.”

 

“I like him!” Evelyn beamed even as Cullen sighed, dourly.

 

“He’s always had a mouth,” Cullen grinned.

 

“Cullen was always jealous of me,” Branson sighed heavily. “It is a burden I’ve had to bear.” There was the sound of something breaking from upstairs. “And that’s the other one. Aidan! Come down!”

 

A round woman descended a staircase at the back of Branson’s clinic, holding a golden-haired toddler who squirmed unhappily in her arms. “Ser! He broke another glass!” she said apologetically.

 

“Never mind,” Branson sighed, taking the boy from her. “Could you help clean up in the operating room please? I’m afraid Mister Cribins had an accident.”

 

“What accident?” Evelyn asked as the woman left.

 

“He burst.”

 

Evelyn’s imagination shut down at that point.

 

“Ello’ Cul!” the toddler beamed, reaching out to Cullen.

 

“Hello!” Cullen grinned, taking the boy and playfully throwing him in the air. The sight of him with Aidan would stay with Evelyn for many years. She knew Cullen to be a hard commander and a powerful warrior and Templar, but she didn’t not expect him to be so at ease with a child. “Are you being a good boy, Aidan?”

 

“‘esh.” Aidan burbled.

 

Cullen sighed. “Traitor.” He rested Aidan on his hip. “Meet Aunty Eve,” he said, his gaze gentle and his voice warm.

 

“Evie,” Aidan blinked at her.

 

“Hello, Aidan,” she smiled and blinked in shock as Cullen handed the boy to her.

 

“I shouldn’t-” Evelyn said worriedly. “I might drop him.”

 

“Like this,” Branson said as he took Aidan, sitting the boy on her hip and helping her cradle Aidan’s back with her good arm. Aidan clung to her, playing with her braided hair. Without thought, she reached out to steady the boy with the stump of her arm. She bit her lip.

 

“There,” Branson said. “It’s doable. If you have a newborn, it will be a little different.”

 

She laughed awkwardly. “I thought this would be harder,” she admitted.

 

“At first, it always is, but the body finds ways,” Branson smiled.

 

She smiled gratefully at him. Branson was gentle in the way he spoke. She caught Cullen’s shared glance with his brother as well. There was gratitude there too. “Rosalie has invited everyone to Mia’s place for dinner tonight,” Cullen said. “We have a wagon. It might be safer for us all to leave together, all things considered.”

 

Branson nodded. “Of course,” he said. “I’ll get Aidan’s clothes ready. Something tells me we’ll be staying a while.”

 

“At least until the morning, when it’s safer to come back,” Cullen said.

 

“Darling, please don’t eat my hair,” Evelyn pleaded, tilting her head away from the boy who was trying to chew her braid. Cullen came to her rescue and took Aidan for another game of toss, filling the air with the boy’s delighted laughter.

 

+++

 

The wagon was noisy with the family packed into it as they headed back to Mia’s farm. But it was full of warmth and welcome, full of jokes, often at Cullen’s expense. Evelyn had the impression that the family had been saving all of them up for when he returned. As they drove into Mia’s farm, Dog was out in the yard, barking excitedly.

 

Aidan took to the animal immediately. He climbed on before his father could stop him as Dog blinked curiously at the boy. Branson caught Aidan and carried him off the dog.

 

Dog tilted its head, following Branson right to the door of Mia’s house before Mia shoo-ed it away. Mia and Rosalie made themselves busy in the kitchen while Rickard went out into the fields to manage the workers. Cullen had settled down with Aidan to play in the living room.

 

“Chess?” Branson asked Evelyn, taking Mia’s set off the mantlepiece.

 

“I’d be no use in the kitchen anyway,” Evelyn grinned as she sat down to clear a table.

 

“Play nice, Eve,” Cullen said, not looking up from Aidan’s little game of ‘let’s bite every one of uncle’s fingers.’

 

“I’m always nice,” Evelyn said loftily.

 

“You and a certain Tervinter have quite a lot in common,” Cullen added.

 

“She cheats?” Branson asked, setting the pieces.

 

“Terribly.”

 

“Cullen!” Evelyn snapped.  

 

The sun began to set over the hills as the food was laid on the table. Dog kept watching from the windows, hoping food would be thrown his way. Mia frowned as she set the table. “Where is that man?” she asked in exasperation.

 

Dog barked outside. “What is wrong with your dog?” Rosalie asked as the barking grew louder. Cullen went to the window and peered out at the settling dusk. The gate was open, waiting for Rickard to return. Dog was growling now, barking at the open gate. Evelyn said the change in the air. She went to Cullen’s side. “Something’s out there,” she said softly.

 

Branson looked up from his book, Aidan on his lap. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Go upstairs,” Cullen said sharply, squinting into the purple shadows.

 

“What? Rosalie blinked as she emerged from the kitchen with Mia. “What are you talking about, Cullen?”

 

“Something may be wrong,” Evelyn said. “Please, all of you, head upstairs, just in case.”

 

“I’ll bolt the kitchen door,” Mia said, her eyes tight with worry.

 

“Hurry,” Cullen said urgently. “All of you, get up, now.” Branson stood with Aidan in his arms as he herded Rosalie and Mia up the staircase.

 

“Cullen-” Evelyn began.

 

“You too.”

 

“You’re joking!” Evelyn scoffed, Dog’s barking echoing outside.

 

“Don’t argue with me!” Cullen snapped. “Get upstairs now! Bolt yourself in with the others.”

 

“You can’t tell me what to do!”

 

“Now that we’re married, I think you’ll find that I can!” he raised his voice.

 

Evelyn’s eyes glittered coldly, her head high. “We’ll discuss this later, Commander,” she said evenly and went upstairs. The family was huddled in Mia’s room when she joined them. She said nothing and went to the window, watching the shadows. There was movement there - crouching shadows, skulking and pacing across the open gate. The shadows walked on all fours, hunched like an ape. She heard Cullen walk past their door on the second floor and then head down the stairs once more.

 

Evelyn breathed heavily against the window as she saw him step outside, holding sword and shield at the ready. He had brought weapons after all! Her hand balled into a fist as she felt so helpless. Blast the arm! The shadows were hooting at the gate now, working themselves up into a frenzy.

 

“What is it?” Rosalie breathed as she hugged Aidan on Mia’s bed, her eyes wide with fear.

 

“I don’t know,” Evelyn replied.

 

The creatures hooted and yelped, finally charging - three dark shadows loping across the yard. They picked up speed, moving faster than wolves. Cullen was not in armour. Evelyn thumped the window, which was fixed in place.

 

Cullen’s sword flashed in the growing moonlight as he parried a wild slash with his sword. He turned his blade, catching the creature across the side. It rolled on the ground, bleeding badly. Dog lunged at the beast, mauling its neck with fierce growls, ripping out flesh and fur. Cullen had already turned to the second, striking it away with his shield and stabbing into it as it spun from the force. It rounded and clawed at him. Evelyn saw the blood from the strike. “Cullen!” she shouted.

 

The third was flanking him as the second beast lunged on him, blocked by his shield. A fourth and fifth creature were charging in through the gate.

 

Evelyn moved without thought, her steps like the winter wind. Glass shattered around her, her arms shielding her face as her body was carried by the wind. She slammed her shoulder into the beast on top of Cullen’s shield and sent it flying off across the gravel. Dog was on it in a heartbeat, mauling the neck of the creature viciously. A bubble of wavering green surrounded Cullen and Evelyn. The third beast hung in the air, suspended and slowed in mid-strike. “Evelyn!” Cullen’s eyes were wild. He stabbed into the eye of the slowed beast. It shuddered and fell limp. “Get inside!”

 

“Shut up!” Evelyn shouted, running for the cart. The two beasts charging towards Cullen now turned towards her, their strides closing the distance as she slid across the gravel and under the cart. Cullen left the disruption field and ran. His shield smashed into one of the loping beasts, throwing it of its feet across the gravel.

 

Evelyn was feeling under the cart hurriedly, finally feeling a click under her fingers. The panel opened and out dropped sword hilt and staff. She grabbed the hilt and rolled out from under the cart as the creature slammed into the side of it, swiping beneath it with clawed hands.

 

Evelyn leapt over the cart with a yell full of rage, cold wind giving her speed as she hung in the air. A glowing green sword burst from the hilt, marked with ancient elven runes. she slashed into the beast’s back, her blade searing bone and flesh. She rolled as she landed and came up standing back to back with Cullen as he struck down one of the creatures. Her spectral blade was held low, illuminating the yard.

 

He said nothing as the two creatures left alive circled them, hooting their strange calls at each other. They charged in unison, running in an arc around them as they tried to come at them from their undefended sides. Cullen blocked a lunge with his shield as Evelyn crouched beneath his shield. She fired a barrage of energy at it with her mind. Cullen’s sword parried the other’s clawed swipe. Evelyn slashed backwards, her blade catching the side of the beast and slicing it almost all the way through.

 

The last of the creatures slumped to the ground dead. It was over in what felt like a heartbeat, a short burst of violence to bring down the strange beasts. Evelyn caught her breath as she stood, her sword vanishing into its hilt. She heard a sword and shield hit the gravel behind her. Cullen grabbed her shoulders, turned her and embraced her, his breath ragged. Evelyn let out a wavering breath and buried her face in his shoulder, holding him with her one arm.

 

She pulled away from him and thumped a fist on his chest. “Don’t. Ever. Tell me to hide. Again.”

 

“Andraste preserve me, I thought I’d lose you,” he breathed raggedly. “I can’t-”

 

Evelyn’s heart was in her eyes. “You won’t,” she promised. There was pain blooming across her arms now. She looked down at the cuts in her arms from when she jumped through the glass.

 

“What are you waiting for?” Branson was yelling at them from the door. “Get in!” Dog was barking once more, pacing at the barn door. Evelyn and Cullen stepped away from each other. Cullen picked up his sword and shield.

 

“Stay there, Branson!” Cullen pointed with his sword as he and Evelyn walked to the barn. Dog was not barking now, but whining. Cullen took point, pushing open the barn door with his foot, his sword and shield raised. The barn was empty, the horses whinnying in fear. There, laying in a pool of blood, was a slight figure. Branson pushed past them and saw the prone figure on the ground. He crouched down beside it, feeling for a pulse.

 

“What are you-” Cullen began.

 

“She’s alive, but barely,” Branson said. “We have to get her inside.”

 

“She’s not like the others,” Evelyn frowned.

 

“No,” Branson said as he looked up at Evelyn, “she looks like a Dalish elf.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Any comments? Let me know how you're enjoying the story!


End file.
